


aging is ...

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5844580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Showered fresh, the Impala wiped down, supplies gathered to be counted and cleaned, Sam decided they deserved pizza for dinner. There was a decent joint ten minutes away. Dean beamed to see the cold six pack Sam brought back with it. Weapons spread across the war table for cleaning, there was still a bloody machete but Dean turned his back on it in favor of Sam and pizza.</p>
            </blockquote>





	aging is ...

Sam kicked the bunker door shut behind him and checked the locks before following Dean down the stairs.

Dean dropped his duffel on the war room table and rolled a crick out of his neck, “I need a shower.”

Slinging his jacket over a chair back, Sam kicked off his shoes. “Yeah, I think I got some of it in my hair.”

“Your shoulder okay?”

“It’s fine, just sore, nothing’s out of place.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure, Dean, but if it makes you feel better you can give me a massage later.”

Dean ran a hand through his short hair, still matted with blood – thankfully not his own – on one side. “You gonna join me in the shower, the hot steam does wonders.”

“Yeah, ungh, I don’t even feel like these clothes are worth cleaning.”

“Toss em, those jeans are wearing thin.”

Padding down the hallway to the shower together, stripping clothes off to be tossed in the corner of the bathroom, Sam swept his eyes over Dean’s body to check for bruises or cuts that needed tending. Dean wasn’t always the most forthcoming with a serious injury. But all Sam saw was a shallow claw scratch down the side, just needed to be cleaned, so he turned his attention to admiring the strong muscle of Dean’s back as he turned on the shower.

-

Showered fresh, the Impala wiped down, supplies gathered to be counted and cleaned, Sam decided they deserved pizza for dinner. There was a decent joint ten minutes away. Dean beamed to see the cold six pack Sam brought back with it. Weapons spread across the war table for cleaning, there was still a bloody machete but Dean turned his back on it in favor of Sam and pizza.

Things weren’t the best right now, but they weren’t too bad. At least, not between him and his brother.

-

Dean was right about the memory foam, Sam could admit that. Sinking into the soft mattress as he crawled between his brother’s legs, Sam stroked his hands in broad swipes over the firm muscle of Dean’s bowed thighs. Belly to belly, Dean’s hands tangling in his hair, they kissed lazy and slow. Dean had dragged out whiskey to go with their popcorn when they settled down for a movie after dinner. Sometimes it made Sam cringe to see Dean with a bottle of anything harder than beer, but he hadn’t really tried to drown himself in it for a while. This was just a few tumblers, made the muscles go slack and warm, bodies heavy against each other. When Dean drank in moderation, he laughed a lot. Sam liked that.

So now, now they were a little sloppy with it, indulging in clean scrubbed skin and breathing into one another’s mouths. Dean might joke that Sam needs to cut his hair, but didn’t seem to mind brushing it off Sam’s face, tugging at the back of his neck where it makes Sam gasp a little. Dean’s salty from popcorn and hums against Sam’s lips, tongue swiping into his mouth with intent as Sam rubs his erection against Dean’s belly. Almost smooth, except for the trail of hair down, down. And he’s not quite there yet, half soft, so Sam smatters wet kisses along Dean’s rough stubbled jaw, takes a minute to tease at his nipples, nips at the soft of his stomach and scoots down the bed to lay on his belly with arms pushed under Dean’s thighs, kissing along the shaft of his cock as sweet as Sam kisses him everywhere else.

The taste of a cock is a moot point for Sam. Doesn’t mind it, doesn’t love it. What he does enjoy about this, is making his brother squirm. Takes it easy and slow, with long swipes of his tongue base to head. Flicking over the spongy head and sealing his lips around it to tongue at the slit before pulling back and nuzzling his cheek against it. Arms wrapped under Dean and hands on his hips. Dean’s fingers in his hair and stuttered little ‘yeah, yeah sweetheart’.

Perfect.

Dean’s still not erect all the way when Sam sinks his mouth down and sucks hard. Rubs his tongue along the underside, pulls up to swirl it around the head. Legs dangling off the edge of the bed and Dean’s thighs framing his face warmly, Sam lulls into a comfortable rhythm until he’s got most of Dean’s cock in his mouth and he’s just humming around it. Saliva pooling behind his teeth, spilling over and dripping wet. Dean’s hips giving little shoves every few sucks, but his dick doesn’t seem too interested.

They’ve done this long enough Sam should know the answer to the question, but he pulls up and rubs a hand over Dean’s hip and asks, “Am I doing something wrong?”

Dean’s frown banishes too quickly, hand soothing along the curve of Sam’s skull to fan over his shoulder and squeeze, tugging, “No, come up here, Sammy.”

Shifting up the bed, Dean turning and Sam rolling with it, each on their sides curved towards one another with legs stacked and arms rested over hips, they end up kissing again. Sam can feel Dean’s hand between their bodies on his cock, squeezing, the flex of muscle in his arm. So Sam places his over Dean’s, slides down to cup his balls, Dean still mostly soft.

“If you’re not in the mood…”

“Shut up, I just uh, maybe I drank too much. I’m tired.”

“We don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m not getting old.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

There’s defensiveness in Dean’s tone. They’re both getting old, actually, but Sam’d never say that to Dean. They’re slowing down. When they were both smooth cheeked teens they could fuck five times in a night but anymore they get maybe one or two go’s in a week. There’s been so much distraction, so much on and off crisis, the past few years that Sam failed to notice for a while. But yeah, they’re both getting old. Dean’s crows feet are deepening and there’s just a hint of gray at his temples. Sam doesn’t mind. His knees get bad sometimes and that’s when he asks Dean to ride him. And maybe he’s spent too much time researching in poor light but he’s starting to think that picking up reading glasses might be a good idea.

Dean’s still trying.

One hand on his cock and his mouth distractedly bumping down Sam’s jaw. Sam’s hard, he’s always so greedy for Dean, but he doesn’t need sex. He just wants this - being close, and safe, and together. So he circles a hand around Dean’s wrist and stills him.

“You know, getting old isn’t a bad thing.”

Dean pulls back, betrayal in his eyes and jaw firm.

Sam wheedles, “Come on, how many times have we died, it’s nice to age a little.”

“You wanna know what aging is Sammy, aging is needing an hour to poop, it’s forgetting if you actually turned the wash machine on or just left the clothes and soap in there, it’s …” Dean waved a hand in the small space between them, “it’s this. And, and not being useful anymore, it’s goddam…”

“Dean.”

Curling a hand behind his neck and pushing a kiss against his mouth, scooching forward enough to press their chests together as Sam tugged the blanket up and smiled at the small indignant huff Dean gave in, Sam wrapped himself around his brother.

“Dean, I’m tired. And sore. Let’s just go to sleep.”

Dean grumbled, “Don’t even get sex and you want to cuddle.”

Sam hummed the affirmative against Dean’s forehead. Stomachs pressed close, Dean shifted his hips. “Don’t you uh, I can take care of that…”

“It’ll go down.”

“But I could –“

“I just want to cuddle.”

“Such a fucking girl.”

“Says the small spoon.”

“Whatever.”

Forcibly shoving Dean’s hip over and flipping him, crowding up behind him and bending Dean to curve against the shape of his body, Sam flattened a hand against Dean’s stomach and held him tight. Dean grunted and squirmed, but he was only molding himself closer against Sam before reaching over to slap off the bed side lamp.

Nosing at the fine hairs at the back of Dean’s neck, Sam sighed and slid his hand up to settle over Dean’s heart, feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “Night, De.”

“G’night.”


End file.
